2/3, a part of something I'm dubbing 'The Breakfast Food Collection'. Words: 1.1k (bite-sized, really). TW: None. Fluffy Dad!Sam content
He would have ordered himself a second McMuffin if he knew he would still be waiting in the car. Both hands loose on the wheel, Sam looked beyond his daughter’s head and straight through the window she was staring out of. There was nothing particularly special about the school. Aikins Hall looked like any other stone castle turned private school. Sam had seen plenty of them in cheap horror movies. Without trying, he could easily picture an 80s scream queen running across the sixteen acre campus covered in red paint too bright to pass as blood.
At first, he had been put off by the price tag of the school uniform, but since Palmer had come down the stairs that morning, he was struck by how much it suited her. She was there because she was meant to be. She was intelligent and she had worked hard. He wasn’t going to let her diminish the accomplishment of earning a scholarship by continuously saying, “It’s only because I’m fast.”
Palmer Brown played little league soccer like many kids before her. Sam loved running back and forth in the big field near their house, kicking the ball around, and not heading home until the sky shifted from icy to a Carolina blue. He had even coached her team of pint-sized players one season. It wasn’t until she was twelve and growing bored of carrying the team that she shifted her focus. She asked her parents if she could go running with them, as they sometimes did together and apart, and it clicked instantly. It wasn’t as if you and Sam were racing or trying to beat one another’s personal bests. It was just a healthy way to clear your heads, but Palmer was serious. She wanted to be able to keep up with you both and, once she could, it wasn’t enough. She wanted you two to have to work to keep up with her. For a kid who could care less whether she won a round of Uno or not, she was fiercely competitive. It worked in her favor though because Aikins started taking note. They reached out to her public school for insight on how she was as a student, what her demeanor was, and what her family was like.
On average, a year of tuition at Aikins was $35,000.00. It was not exactly couch coins. Palmer knew this was a big opportunity and she pulled her science grades up in order to reach it. Now, sitting outside of the school, she was overwhelmed.
“It’s probably not too late to reregister at Oak Park.” Sophomore year in Mrs. Sem’s homeroom with its ‘Reach for the Stars!’ messaging all over the walls suddenly sounded like a Godsend.
“Palmer, you got to try.” Sam urged.
“Beau is right. I look dumb in a tie and blazer.” Grabbing at the silky shirt accessory, Palmer whined as she quoted her oldest brother.
“Beau is not right. Every girl out there is wearing the exact same thing.” He saw various lengths of kilts and colors of lipstick, but otherwise it was forest green uniforms as far as the eye could see.
“I’m having flashbacks to kindergarten.” Her ponytail sent a cool breeze to his face as she whipped around, showing her dad the panic in the center of her face. “Remember Garrett Lalonde said ‘What’s a Palmer?’, ‘Why is your name weird?’, ‘You should go to a weirdo school for weirdos.’”
“Palmer,” Sam brought his face in close so that she was forced to look into his eyes, the same ones that had seen her talent long before anyone at this fancy school noticed. “Garrett does whip-its in the Walmart parking lot. You don’t care what Garrett says, but you got to go. You have three minutes.” He didn’t need to check the car clock to know.
Repeating internally what her dad said, Palmer tried to convince herself that he was right. She didn’t care what Garrett thought. Or what her brother said. Or if any of these rich private school girls didn’t like her. She was faster than them. She was better at something than them. They needed her so their school looked good. She started pumping herself up by bouncing her shoulders up and down, nodding her head. It’s what she did whenever she stepped on a track before the race in order to focus. Sam beamed as he saw her beginning to become herself again.
He reached around into the empty McDonald’s bag they had tossed into the backseat and pulled out a couple brown napkins. Her lips were slick from the hashbrown she finished right before they pulled in. As soon as she opened her eyes, he offered it to her and she wiped at her mouth like a viking might after a massive meal. His girl was ready.
“Hey, you are Palmer Brown. I gave you that name and you should be proud of it. I’m so proud of you.” Sam put one hand behind her neck and gave her a five second pep talk before kissing her forehead. Palmer was grateful, but quickly wiped at the invisible mouth mark he may have left behind before rolling the napkin into a ball and handing it back to him. She picked up her black knapsack from between her feet and pushed open the door.
Palmer said ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you’ to her dad quietly before heading toward the large stone stairs. She was still intimidated, but she was pushing through and pretending not to be. Sam put his hands back on the steering wheel and stretched his neck to make room for the weight of the world as it returned to his shoulders after a very short moratorium over the summer. He watched his daughter jog up the steps, holding the straps of her backpack, as her ponytail swished back and forth at metronome. Palmer was right. This was a lot like kindergarten. Sam was watching his heart walking around outside of himself, entering a situation he had never been in himself. For a split second, Palmer was five again and practicing spelling her name out loud on the night before the first day of Kindergarten.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Daddy!” She had shouted, jumping up and down in her dinosaur themed pajamas. Sam had been overseas for Beau’s first day of school and he had famously missed Palmer’s birth. She could not contain her excitement over getting to have her dad walk her into her kindergarten classroom. He watched now as Palmer walked through the doors, reading her lips as she introduced herself to the girl that held one open for her, and let go of the breath he was holding.
He really did. We saw him practicing his lines in the car proof that the tough guy act was exactly that: an act. And that didn’t make him manipulative; it made him human. It made him someone desperate not to seem vulnerable. We saw how terrified he was in the sauna, forced to do things against his will. We saw where his pain came from, why he thought and acted the way he did.
We saw a Billy who was once happy. A boy who had a mother that loved him and a childhood filled with light until that light was snuffed out by an abusive father who didn’t just hit him, but stripped away his humanity. And when his mother left, she took with her any last hope of escape.
And not once did anyone try to save him the way they did with Will the season before. Not once did anyone suggest helping him out of his misery. The only reason we got to see him come back to himself in the end was because it was the only way to beat the mind flayer. He wasn’t a person to them he was a pawn. A tactic. And still, he sacrificed himself for the very people who had only ever looked at him with disgust.
And in the end, after everything, he got a sliver of redemption just before he gave himself up to the mind flayer. So don’t tell me he got what he deserved. Not when he lived a life full of pain, not when he was broken down into something he never wanted to become, and not when just the memory of his mother was enough to bring him back to who he truly was someone willing to die to save everyone else.
So I’ll say it once, twice and a million times if I have to. Billy Hargrove deserved better.
Plot: A whole lot of firsts to experience now that they are out of the Glade. [Mentions of smut. No actual smut. Happy Gally. Fluff!]
Lopsided and large, a slaphappy smile had taken over Gally’s face as you pulled him away from his friends and the rest of the bonfire. Earlier, when you were eating dinner with everyone else in the Safe Haven, you whispered to Gally while his mouth was full that you had a surprise for him.
Once far enough away from the group, you led Gally into one of the tents. He helped himself to a made cot, legs extended over the edge, and parted with room for you. He figured he was about to be treated to a sequel from the other night. His hands were impatient as they fiddled with the button of his pants.
“Close your eyes.” You hummed. Gally did not need to be told twice.
He pulled at his groin and then flattened his palms against the cot, leaving you to undress him.
“Open your mouth.”
The instruction struck him as strange, but Gally didn't question it. Immediately, he dropped his jaw and waited.
He wasn't sure what he expected to taste, but as soon as the sweet earthiness hit his tongue, his eyes popped open. You could plainly see fireworks exploding in them as you lightly tapped his chin and helped bring his lips together again. He swallowed the sugary treat as it melted in his mouth.
“Helen showed me how to make it. It's chocolate.” Gally followed your eyes to the small brown squares sitting on a piece of cloth in your hand. “The crops she needed for it finally grew. Isn't it so good?” They hadn't had it in your maze so you assumed correctly Gally hadn't any memory of it either.
“I thought you took me away so you could go down on me again.” Gally admitted with a laugh, helping himself to another square.
“This is better than that!” Popping a piece into your mouth, you declared.
Gally had to think about it. It was delicious. It tasted special somehow. Looping a finger into the pocket of your pants, he pulled you between his legs and helped bring your lips to his. The taste of sugar and cocoa beans coming together as he kissed you.
“It's a close second. I’ll give you that.” He teased.
While you wrapped the confection back up, Gally tapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth and studied the flavor. He had a hand in your soft hair, remembering that's where it had been the other night. Every day in the Safe Haven, he learned something new and he couldn't believe that this was his life now, that he could be this happy.
Sorry if I'm a lil bit late but I'm so glad to see that you want to write Billy fics once again! You're literally my favorite Stranger Things/Billy Hargrove writer and I always return to read everything on your masterlist. Your writing is just so good that even the angst gives me serotonin. Anyways, I hope you're doing well and that you're embraced with inspiration :D
I would love to write again so bad
Been rereading these old fics randomly and would love to write drabbles again.
@ fic readers who write play by play comments that highlight your favorite passages and why you like them, please know you are the best humans to exist and please don’t stop what you’re doing
When Stranger Things S3 came out, I was so excited. Couldn't wait for the Billy inspiration to come over me. Then what happened happened and I was like "Well, that was fun while it lasted..."
Word Count: 3.8 k Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used. Warnings: Violence, language, lite smut.
MASTERLIST
This is a dark story. Please be warned. If dark angst isn’t your bag, don’t read it. Take care of your hearts and heads. Oh yeah and a Toni Braxton inspired this story. Go figure. I am very scared to post this. Please be kind.
Fifteen months.
You two had just crossed the one year mark, celebrating by driving to Indianapolis for the Rush concert and having sex in every corner of your Motel 13 room. It had been one of Billy’s favorite weekends since moving to Hawkins and you couldn’t hear The Body Electric without grinning to yourself and feeling tumultuously horny.
In your living room, you thought back to that weekend while fiddling with the yellow gold leaf pendant hanging from the thin necklace chain over your clavicle. It had been a birthday gift from Billy, a week late since he had been grounded on your actual birthday and couldn’t make it out to the bonfire party your best friend threw. Night Court played on the television, but it could have been static. You weren’t paying attention at all, just dragging the pendant from cheek to cheek and going over better memories in your mind. Every now and then, your thoughts would be interrupted with the same question, “Does he care?“
Drabble based off a prompt from a list below. I apologize for the lack of ‘keep reading’ link. It wasn’t working out.
He hated when you walked away, but you weren’t sure you would stay composed if you stood in front of him anywhere with your eyes wide and mouth open in evident surprise. Wasn’t he just saying a couple weeks ago that he was finally feeling settled? You left Will silent in the kitchen, right hand thrusted out of frustration into the pocket of his jeans while you pretended to try and collect yourself in the bedroom.
You weren’t actually making an effort to be composed though. Instead, you were mumbling small groans of confusion on your side of the bed while taking out your earrings. They were small gold studs, the first gift Will ever gave you. Almost 4 years ago, silently leaving the box on the bathroom sink of the apartment you’d been renting on your own at the time. He was so nonchalant about it that you didn’t notice the little black box by your toothpaste all day until he had to prompt you to go look. You wore them almost every day, but you needed something to do or else your hands would be left right now to furiously remove the pillows from the bed and toss them across the room.
Will sighed as he settled his side against the door frame. He had given you a minute to yourself, but it had felt like eons as he paced through the kitchen and pantomimed cleaning the counter. He wrinkled his brows together as he saw you taking out your earrings. What did that mean?
“It could lead to a lot of money, babe.” Slow and confident, as if he was wrapping up one of his professional speeches, he told you.
While you weren’t looking over at him yet, he had your attention.
“How much is a lot?” Money was a pink elephant in the room. You two rarely outright spoke about it, but the stress of combined bills at the end of every month was silently felt between you both.
“It would cover your student loans.” Will checked the space between his socked feet and then back to you. He hoped that nugget would bring your eyes to him again. “And then some”
It took you long to pipe up and you felt that, but the idea of never feeling the hot force of student loans pushing into your shoulders every month was momentarily enticing. He knew that. A man of few words, Will Miller wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.
“If the choice is between having huge debt for years or you going off and potentially being shot at again? I am always going to choose debt. Always.” Conviction cracking your voice, you finally looked at him in disbelief that you would have to say that. The obvious sadness pouring through you coaxed him over the threshold and into the room with you. “I just thought that was finally behind us.” He had a new routine now. He was on a sleep medication that worked. He wasn’t feeling isolated in a crowd anymore. The idea of him going back, even for one last job, felt like pissing all over that progress. You didn’t doubt that you two could do it again, but the idea didn’t set off fireworks. Hands between your knees, you sighed as he cautiously sat by you on the bed’s edge.
“It’s for Pope. It’s an easy job.” He said as if either fact was reassuring. His right hand came to the back of your head, fondly strumming through locks of hair. “I don’t want to go with my girl pissed at me.” Will admitted what you already knew, his thumb moving hair away to graze over the empty spot on your ear where the gold stud had been.
Part of you wanted to tell him again not to go, just as you had when you were both still in the kitchen, but you felt his eyes on your profile, fingers soft in your hair and on your skin, and you inhaled to reset - finally feeling closer to composed.
“I’m not pissed.” Your shoulder met his chest as you leaned in with trust, deflating against him. He wasn’t asking for your permission nor did he require it. It was your support that Will wanted as per usual. “I’m always going to worry about you, but I’m also always going to be in your corner.” It was a promise, one that you both were always reminding the other of. Will bowed his head over yours, breathing in the soft scent of sea salt shampoo before protectively closing his hand over the side of your face that wasn’t up to his chest. Finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was for you to go to sleep angry at him.
always so weird to hear someone got married and had a kid— feels like just yesterday i was reading up all those billy fanfics... time passed by too quick!! anyways, congratulations, glad to see you back :)
any thoughts on billy’s ending in season three?
They ended him and it ended me and I am still recovering
Okay, while I do want to write new stuff for new things. There’s a part of me that will always want to write Billy stuff. Just gotta come up with some little ideas to drabble around.
Benny Miller with number 66 - You aren’t my girl. I’m looking for some angst with a happy ending please and thanks.
Go easy on me. I haven’t written anything at all in so long, but also this is my first time writing Benny Miller anything ever. It felt good to write again, but also, this might be garbage.
There had been pros to Benny being away all the time. It made moving on easier when you weren't constantly running into him in drugstores and parking lots or able to send one another 'I miss you' text messages at random times. There wasn't much point wasting time on your days off wondering if you two could have made things work because he was somewhere thousands of miles away, unreachable, and always potentially dead. It should have taken in ages to accept that the two of you would be filed under 'a great almost relationship' in your memory, but instead you had been able to let go easily. He needed someone who was comfortable with distance and going long periods of time without their partner present. It was what came with his job. While you had wanted to be that person, the uncertainty and loneliness had been too much to combat.
Benny was back now though, finished with special forces, and ready to focus his dangerously idle hands on fighting just like he always talked about with the excitement of a labrador puppy. You had heard through mutual friends that he had returned, all limbs still attached, but spotting his older brother, Will, at the gas station made his comeback impossible to deny. In silent solidarity, you nodded back at Will who caught you staring through your car window as he filled up his tank. It felt silly, but you couldn't help, but wonder if he would mention to his brother that he saw you. Would he say you looked good? Would he report on the bags under your eyes or mention the dent in the hood of your car?
It was over a week since you saw Will and life continued as it had when Ben was gone until the bell of the bar door rang out in the key of F. Looking up from the register, your eyes widened at the sight of him. It was one in the morning and he was actually glistening. He couldn't help himself, but glow when he smiled. His eyes grazed over the place, but found you in record time. Luckily, you had managed to look away. There was success in not being caught staring.
"Hi, Ben Miller." Without looking up from the crate of pint glasses you were hanging up, you greeted him as his shadow replaced the sheen off the wooden bar top.
"Hi, Gorgeous." Mirroring the melody of your voice, he came back. He was smirking, you could hear the sound of his mouth tightly curling upward.
"I almost didn't recognize you without Will and crew." You would recognize him anywhere, an easy-to-spot Waldo in any crowded room.
"It's me. In the flesh." He drummed his hands on the table with hope the noise would provoke your eyes would flutter to his. He was right and the sound immediately captured your attention. "There she is." Leaning his forearms onto the bar's edge, he settled. "I've been back almost a month and I haven't seen you. Your sister came to my fight."
"Yeah, she invited me, but - "
"You didn't want to come?" He questioned, watching as you poured him a Rickards Red without him asking.
"No..." Chuckling under your breath, you replied quickly. You had to stop what you were doing to eyeball Benny. How did you two go right back to how you had been over a year ago? This was a familiar dance that you thought you both would have forgot the steps to. You slid the drink over and sighed. Even though Benny was known as a great fighter and you had always been supportive before, it held no interest to you. Why would you want to watch someone you care about be pushed around and beaten? Just because he didn't occupy the same space in your life as he did before, you knew it wouldn't suddenly be easier to watch blood trickle out of his face. "What? Did you want me to come? It's been a long time, Benny."
"Hey. You're not my girl." He said as a reminder to himself mostly, picking up the perfectly poured beer and taking a sip to cool himself down. He always felt wound up around you, a dog jumping on it's hind legs with chaotic enthusiasm even when nothing exciting was going on. It was a dead Tuesday night at the bar, but the energy in his body was pulsing like it was a busy and buzzing game night. "You don't have to do anything for me."
Smiling, you nodded to agree with him. He had an angle, but you weren't sure what it was yet. He had just returned home and it wasn't as if you two had a history beyond wanting one another openly. With cold hands, you picked up the empty plastic crate to take to the back.
Maybe, some cage bunny would show up to hang off of Benny's shoulders and drink with him. Maybe, he was waiting for his brother and friends to show up. Internally, you berated yourself for assuming he had actually just come by to see you. Coming back out, Benny was still sitting there, nursing his beer. His eyes and smirked seemed devilishly dedicated to you. One hand tossing through his hair and reminding you how much you had liked doing that before.
"Benny, why are you here?" You told yourself not to ask. It didn't matter. You even checked on all two of the other patrons in the place before coming to him, but the question jumped from your mouth, the red lipstick you had been wearing fading like a a painted bike left to roast in the sun. "You can drink beer at home and like you said, I'm not your girl." It had been your choice, but it was the truth.
"Not yet." He said as soon as he had swallowed and then stretched his back until it cracked and he was sitting upright. "A guy's gotta have goals, right?" He'd been back a month, but only in front of you for minutes, but hopefully things would be different this time around.
The amount of times Benjamin’s freaking Miller has ruined your mirror couple selfie by grabbing your boobs before you can take the picture is astronomically high.
I used to read your writing ALL the time (since you were writing for 5SOS like maybe 6 years ago), I was even on here reading some Billy stuff a few months ago. Imagine my surprise to not only find out that you're back BUT TO FIND OUT FROM THE BENNY MILLER TAG. I can't wait to to read your new writing!
This makes me really happy. I really want to write for him. Just trying to get back into writing in general. Your girl is rusty.
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